


Gift of the Magi

by samsarapine



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-06
Updated: 2010-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsarapine/pseuds/samsarapine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped in the darkness, each man was so sure that he was doing the right thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift of the Magi

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://epiphanytiff.livejournal.com/profile)[**epiphanytiff**](http://epiphanytiff.livejournal.com/) in the 2009 [](http://community.livejournal.com/yuletide_smut/profile)[**yuletide_smut**](http://community.livejournal.com/yuletide_smut/) fest. I loved the prompt and the opportunity to explore Hazel's reality. Thank you so much for the opportunity to give a Saiyuki twist to a seasonal theme. Thanks also to [](http://nanfoodle.livejournal.com/profile)[**nanfoodle**](http://nanfoodle.livejournal.com/), my beta – you rock!

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[angsty](http://samsarapine.livejournal.com/tag/angsty), [fic](http://samsarapine.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [gift fic](http://samsarapine.livejournal.com/tag/gift%20fic), [hakkai/hazel](http://samsarapine.livejournal.com/tag/hakkai/hazel), [nc-17](http://samsarapine.livejournal.com/tag/nc-17), [saiyuki](http://samsarapine.livejournal.com/tag/saiyuki), [yuletide_smut](http://samsarapine.livejournal.com/tag/yuletide_smut)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **Fic: "Gift of the Magi", Youkai!Hakkai/Hazel, NC-17** _

Title: Gift of the Magi  
Author: [](http://samsarapine.livejournal.com/profile)[**samsarapine**](http://samsarapine.livejournal.com/)  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing(s): Hakkai/Hazel  
Words: About 8,100  
Disclaimer: Saiyuki characters are the property of Kazuya Minekura. I make no profit from this story.   
Summary: Trapped in the darkness, each man was so sure that he was doing the right thing.  
Warnings: Non-con. Darkish, with flashes of light.  
Author's notes: Written for [](http://epiphanytiff.livejournal.com/profile)[**epiphanytiff**](http://epiphanytiff.livejournal.com/) in the 2009 [](http://community.livejournal.com/yuletide_smut/profile)[**yuletide_smut**](http://community.livejournal.com/yuletide_smut/) fest. I loved the prompt and the opportunity to explore Hazel's reality. Thank you so much for the opportunity to give a Saiyuki twist to a seasonal theme. Thanks also to [](http://nanfoodle.livejournal.com/profile)[**nanfoodle**](http://nanfoodle.livejournal.com/), my beta – you rock!

****

Gift of the Magi

 

"Hazel-san!"

"Hazel!"

Even as he heard Mr. Spectacles and Gat shout his name, Hazel knew he was pretty much done for; Gat was quick, but gravity was faster.

It seemed to take forever to fall, as if he were suspended in the air by invisible strings while the world roared around him. He caught a glimpse of Gat's face, horrified and shouting, Mr. Sanzo's fierce frown as he whirled to see what was causing the earth to shift, Mr. Spectacles' intent expression as he rushed through the collapsing mountainside towards Hazel.

A heartbeat later they vanished.

A rock came towards him and he raised his arm instinctively. He heard the bone snap under the blow. White-hot pain flared again and again as the mountain claimed him.

_I don't want to die alone!_

Pain caught him tight around the chest, crushing him. He could almost swear he saw a bolt of light scorch past, turning the insides of his eyelids red with its brilliance.

A last stray thought bloomed…

_Master?_

…and vanished with a roar into darkness.

*****

 

He hurt.

"nngh."

"Don't try to move," a voice said. "Please, stay still."

He obediently slipped back into unconsciousness.

*****

 

Hazel woke to utter, pitch-black darkness. "Hello?"

There was a rustle of movement and light flared. Hazel shielded his face, waiting for his eyes to adjust before cautiously lowering his hand.

Mr. Spectacles held up a glowing ball of chi. His face was drawn and pale, and he was regarding Hazel with concern. "Are you all right?"

"I reckon I am." Hazel cleared his throat; his voice sounded unnaturally hoarse. "But you're lookin' a mite peaked, Mr. Spectacles."

"I'll be fine," Mr. Spectacles said, though he shifted uncomfortably. The ball of light in his hand dimmed a bit.

Hazel squinted, trying to see where they were.

Gat wasn't there, just him and Mr. Spectacles, trapped together in a small space entirely surrounded by boulders and dirt. A large, flat slab that balanced precariously against a huge pile of rocks and debris formed their ceiling; there was enough room for both of them to sit without crouching in the highest part of the space, but not much beyond that, and barely enough room side to side for the two of them to stretch out, unless they didn't mind close quarters. The air was thick and choked with dust. It smelled of wet earth, with a strange, faint echo of scorched ozone.

Hazel heard the whisper of settling earth and tried to mask his shiver. "I can't seem to recollect what happened. D'you mind bein' kind enough to enlighten me?"

"There was a subsidence of some sort." Mr. Spectacles spoke quiet-like. "I think that the youkai that we were fighting had set it up as a trap. They were trying to force us all in this direction, but it must have been sprung prematurely."

"I see. Tricky little beggars," Hazel said, glancing around their prison. "Now don't you be worryin' none. I reckon Gat'll get us out of here 'most any time."

Mr. Spectacles looked away. "We're buried quite deeply."

"Nonsense. If we were buried that deep, we wouldn't be havin' this pleasant conversation now, would we? We'd be squashed flat as two bugs."

"Perhaps you're right," Mr. Spectacles replied in a polite and annoyingly accommodating manner. "However, I've noticed that it's become more difficult to breath in the past half hour or so."

"Half an hour? Gat's runnin' late." That was worrisome, but likely his expectations were a mite too high when it came to Gat's strength. Still... "I expect it probably just took them a little longer to whup those youkai than usual."

"Or perhaps it's simply that we have several tons of mountain over the top of us," Mr. Spectacles replied, his voice flat. "I didn't mean that we'd been here for half an hour, just that the air quality has diminished in that time. We've been here quite a bit longer, as a matter of fact."

Hazel made a disdainful noise. "If you're tryin' to tell me that rock over the top o' us is holdin' up the mountain, I'll eat my hat."

"I was able to shelter us somewhat."

"Hmph. Quite the feat, I'm sure. Still, you kept us in one piece." Hazel rubbed the back of his head and winced. "I reckon I got a good hit to the noggin, but otherwise I'm none the worse for wear."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

Hazel smiled thinly at the irony of that statement coming from a youkai posing as a human. "Speakin' of appearances," he said, aggressively polite, "it 'pears to me like all you're doin' is sittin' around and waitin' to be rescued. Or am I imaginin' that, too?"

Mr. Spectacles looked offended. "I think it's quite apparent that this space is unstable. It seems more prudent to take time to assess our situation and to come up with a plan."

Hazel sighed heavily. "I suppose it's good that I woke up then. Someone needs to take charge."

"Perhaps we'd better take inventory of our resources, first," Mr. Spectacles said. "In case we're not successful at 'taking charge'."

"You're a proper one an' that's no doubt." Hazel snorted. "Right, then, Mr. Spectacles. You tell me what resources we have, an' then we'll get to work."

"We have some space to manoeuvre," Mr. Spectacles said. "Some air, though the quality is deteriorating. There's a bit of water dripping in the corner. We have some light, though I may have to conserve my qui if we're here too much longer. I also have a ration of dried fruit."

Hazel thought about what was in his pockets. "I reckon I've got a half a bar o' chocolate," he offered. _And the pendant is almost full,_ he added silently to himself.

"Ah." Mr. Spectacles sounded to Hazel like he wasn't impressed by Hazel's contribution, but was trying to act as if he were too polite to say so.

"I notice that you didn't offer up your chi-blastin' skills," Hazel retorted. "Seems a mite more help to us than a bit o' chocolate."

"If I use my chi to blast through the rock, I'll most likely bring down the rest of the mountain on top of us. Besides," Mr. Spectacles looked guarded, "I don't think I have sufficient energy at the moment."

Hazel snorted. "Sounds like what the lazy man says when he's faced with a big job."

"No doubt that's it," Mr. Spectacles said, a creepy smile crossing his face. "There's some water dripping in the corner behind you, Hazel-san." He fumbled at his shoulder, pulling away the large piece of cloth he wore bound around himself. "If you use this, you might be able to soak up enough that we can drink, after a fashion."

Hazel shook his head. "Too big," he said, pulling out a handkerchief. "I'll use this. It's clean, and not as much moisture will be wasted over a big chunk o' cloth." He dug through the rubble until he found a rock with a small indentation, more of a chip than anything, really, but it might do to catch the slow drip and keep the water from simply soaking through the cloth and sinking into the earth. He carefully balanced it under the seepage and placed his handkerchief on it. "That should do it."

Mr. Spectacles nodded. "Thank you. And now, unless there's something else that you need to see to do, I'll stop making a light, if you don't mind." He looked suddenly exhausted.

"Can't think o' anythin' right now," Hazel said. "Though how that's goin' to help us get out o' here isn't right obvious to me."

Mr. Spectacles stretched out, careful not to impose on Hazel's space. The chi ball faded, and the darkness surrounded them once again. "I need to conserve my energy. Perhaps when the handkerchief becomes damp, I might impose upon you to pass it to me. I'm quite thirsty."

Hazel made a vague affirmative noise and drew his knees up close to his chest to keep warm.

Without the light, the utter silence pressed in on him. He couldn't sense any sign of life outside of their small space. The air was cold but strangely stuffy and Mr. Spectacles was much too close, but at least there was someone with him.

Where was Gat? He sure was taking his sweet time, and time was something that he and Mr. Spectacles likely didn't have. Hazel had the impression that the mountain didn't like this little hole of theirs. It seemed as if the rocks around them were waiting, impatient, ready to settle further into place and make their little haven part of the earth around it. He could feel them hovering close to him, whispering, like they were planning when to slide right down over the top of him…

His heart started to pound a bit harder and he couldn't seem to get enough air.

"Now I'm wonderin', what could have made you so weak that you can't use your chi?" Hazel asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. The words seemed to disappear into the darkness, crushed by the weight of the mountain around them.

He nearly sighed with relief when Mr. Spectacles replied. "I used quite a bit of it to protect us. I managed to deflect most of the debris, but I had a difficult time maintaining our open space until the rock over our heads settled into a stable enough position to shield us from the brunt of the subsidence."

The pressing walls seemed to relax at the sound of their voices. "You sound a mite offended by my question."

"Perhaps instead I should be flattered," Mr. Spectacles retorted, his voice sharp in the darkness. "You seem to have attributed nearly god-like abilities to me, after all."

"In the spirit of a forgivin' man, I'll pretend I didn't hear that blasphemy."

"Do you remember anything from your fall?"

Hazel shook his head slowly, then realized Mr. Spectacles couldn't see it in the dark. "Not rightly, no. I remember the ground fallin' out from under me and seein' Gat—" and the feel of a sharp pain in his arm and head. Hazel touched his arm; it echoed with remembered pain.

The rocks hitting him as he fell…

Well, if he weren't a prize mutt. Seemed like Mr. Spectacles may have had another reason for being so wrung out. Hazel had seen Mr. Spectacles heal the others once or twice after a run-in with youkai. He didn't bother to speculate about just how badly he'd been hurt now that he was thinking about his body's various aches and pains in a new light, but it had probably taken a mess of chi to put him back together again. Not that he'd let on he knew that, of course. No need to give the youkai a big head. "But nothin' much more than that," he prevaricated. "Just a bunch o' dirt an' rocks. I reckon I must have passed out."

"Not unusual, under the circumstances." Mr. Spectacles sounded a bit mollified.

Hazel decided to extend an olive twig. "As long as we're countin' our blessins, I suppose I owe you a thank you for making us this little nook, Mr. Spectacles."

"Perhaps you could repay the favor by using my real name," Mr. Spectacles said. "Hakkai. Or at the very least, Mr. Cho."

"Well, now, that don't rightly make me comfortable, you see," Hazel said, damned if he'd treat the youkai as an equal. "How about I keep callin' you Mr. Spectacles and pay you back some other way?"

"How? By stealing my soul?" Mr. Spectacles' cultured voice sounded bitter.

"I don't count it stealin' when it's something owed in the first place."

"And how do you rationalize that?"

Hazel reckoned the youkai hadn't been born that could out-argue him. "All of us are sinners, Mr. Spectacles. It's just some of us have souls that can rise above it, while others have souls that have fallen so low that they couldn't see up if they were lyin' on their backs. Er, pardon the phrase," he added, thinking of Mr. Spectacle's prone position. "You might even say that by taking the souls of youkai and givin' 'em to humans, I'm offerin' 'em redemption of a sort."

"You offer nothing but hatred and bigotry." Mr. Spectacles' voice shimmered low and electric across Hazel's nerves, lifting the hair on the back of his neck.

Damned demon. Hazel refused to be intimidated. "Well, we'll just have to agree to disagree on that point."

Mr. Spectacles was silent. "Perhaps it would be better if we dropped the topic and rested for the moment," he finally said, sounding more controlled.

"If y'all need to rest, I'm not stoppin' you," Hazel said. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Truth be told, he was starting to feel more than a mite peaked himself. His head ached badly, and he felt tired, but too cold to drift off.

The silence began to press in again, smelling of sweat and fear. And blood, Hazel realized. "Say, did a youkai or two get caught up in the trap?"

Mr. Spectacles sighed. "I have no idea."

"Hmm." Hazel shifted again; his shoulders seemed to be unusually tender.

"Why do you ask? Do you want more souls?" The edge was back in Mr. Spectacles' voice.

"Now, now, I thought we weren't talkin' about that anymore," Hazel chided cheerfully, pleased that Mr. Spectacles had been the one to broach the subject after having made it taboo. "No, I've got plenty, only a space or two left to be filled. It's just that I fancied I smelled blood."

Silence met his words.

"If I can smell it, I reckon you can, too," Hazel pointed out.

"I can smell it."

Hazel waited, but no more was forthcoming. "Well, it ain't Gat," he finally said. "So I guess it's fine."

"I suppose so," Mr. Spectacles said. "Perhaps we could stop talking about it."

"It's just that it smells a mite strong—"

"It's yours."

"What?"

"The blood. It's yours. You were badly injured in the fall."

Badly injured. He reckoned that was about the size of it. Damn. It sure felt bad being indebted to the creature.

"I used my chi to heal you," Mr. Spectacles said. "Arguably, one could note that a piece of my soul resides within you now."

"Hmm." Hazel didn't like the sound of that. He pondered a bit. "Well, my guess is that your chi turned human when it entered me, sorta like youkai souls turn into human souls when I revive poor hapless victims of youkai violence."

"What evidence do you have of that?"

"Of what?"

"That human and youkai souls are different in any way?"

"Why, the Holy Word," Hazel said in surprise.

Mr. Spectacles snorted. "The Holy Word."

"Yes, well, as a heathen I doubt you're enlightened—"

"I was brought up in an orphanage by nuns," Mr. Spectacles said. "I'm quite familiar with their teachings."

"Well, don't that just beat all! They bring up youkai in orphanages in these parts?" There was no answer, so Hazel shrugged in the darkness. "No matter, I guess. But surely the nuns taught you about good an' evil."

"In my experience, there's little difference between good and evil other than intent and perspective," Mr. Spectacles said quietly. "Intent is a trait common to both human and youkai. That leads me to believe that any difference in human and youkai souls is based on perspective, and is negligible at best."

"Ha ha! You're tryin' to trick me," Hazel said smugly. "The words of the Devil, Mr. Spectacles. The words of the Devil."

"Perhaps you're right."

There was a low groan that shuddered through the space as the earth settled somewhere close by. Fear choked Hazel for a moment before his anger suddenly flared. Instead of getting them out before everything collapsed in on them, the damned youkai was arguing theology. Hazel wasn't about to suffer the final indignity of dying because Mr. Spectacles was of a mind to get the last word in. He needed to establish just who was in charge.

Which meant he needed to find a chink in the demon's armor of politeness. He mulled over Mr. Spectacles' possible weaknesses and remembered the way that the demons in Mr. Sanzo's little group interacted. At times they seemed quite… intimate. That might be a liability that Hazel could exploit. Crude, of course, but there wasn't time to be dallying around. Besides, he'd been plenty curious about their relationships anyway, and he'd seen the other two demons defer to Mr. Spectacles on several occasions.

"You're a right smart fellow, Mr. Spectacles."

There was a pause before Mr. Spectacles said cautiously, "Thank you."

"You know, if you weren't a youkai, you'd be an attractive sort of fellow, too," Hazel said slyly.

"I beg your pardon?" Mr. Spectacles sounded shocked.

"I said you're an attractive fellow."

"I think we should drop the subject."

"Are you one of those fellows that feels sick when it comes to datin' other men?" Hazel teased. He imagined Mr. Spectacles' face. Probably bright red at the moment. He felt cheered. Yes, baiting the youkai was not only a way to establish who was boss, it was a right good tonic for the nerves, too, which was a cherry on the cake as far as Hazel was concerned.

"Dating other men doesn't sicken me," Mr. Spectacles retorted.

Oh ho! Hazel knew just what to do to take that smug superiority down a few notches.

"I see. Tell me, sir, do you usually top or bottom?" Hazel asked.

"I find that remark to be in extremely poor taste," Mr. Spectacles said severely.

"I reckon what either of us wants or not doesn't count for much under the circumstances.," Hazel drawled. "But since you're just lyin' around waitin' to be rescued, I thought maybe you might want to try somethin' to pass the time."

He heard the youkai take a deep breath. "Hazel-san, I propose a truce of sorts. Perhaps we could be silent, or have an interaction not so likely to result in any unfortunate words."

Hazel kept his tone casual. "I don't see how that's gonna get us out o' here any faster."

"Fighting won't get us out of here any sooner, either."

"Hmm. 'Pears to me that we're both tops, I reckon," Hazel mused. "Used to bein' in charge an' all. A case o' too many bosses and not enough workers."

There was a pause. "Your point is well-taken," Mr. Spectacles eventually said, albeit grudgingly. "However, I still think it's wiser for me to conserve my energy until I'm fully recovered."

"An' I figure that there's no time to act like the present. Now, how are we goin' to settle this here dispute?"

"I hope that you're not suggesting that we have sex in order to choose a dominant individual."

"Your mind goes to some mighty interestin' places, Mr. Spectacles. A romp in the hay would probably make the time go faster, I suppose. But as far as establishin' superiority, I figure my bein' human establishes my authority pretty well without any contests, sexual or otherwise."

"Has the handkerchief gathered enough water, do you suppose?" Mr. Spectacles asked.

At the abrupt change in subject, Hazel felt a brief thrill of annoyance mixed with – disappointment? Surely not. Still, he reckoned Mr. Spectacles was testing him, too, and it wouldn't help anything to get into an argument in which he'd likely come out looking the worse, refusing to give Mr. Spectacles water and all.

Of course, that just brought up another issue. Hazel didn't really relish the idea of sharing a handkerchief with a youkai, but he supposed being charitable was prudent for the moment. He groped until he felt damp cloth. When he passed it to Mr. Spectacles, their hands touched and it was all he could do to keep from jumping out of his skin. Warmth in the darkness. He'd expected Mr. Spectacles' fingers to be cold.

He heard some quiet sucking sounds and then the handkerchief was passed back to him. "Thank you," Mr. Spectacles said. He sounded as if he meant it.

Hazel put the cloth back under the drip. "You're welcome."

"I've been thinking," Mr. Spectacles said. "With food and water, our greatest need is for air. Perhaps if I used my qui to bore a hole up towards the surface, it would allow fresh air to reach us. Also, we may be able to signal someone with a beam of qui through the hole."

Yes, Mr. Spectacles was a sly one, all right, buying himself time like that in order to look like he wasn't slacking when it came to plans. "You were the one dead-set against us usin' your qui to get us out in the first place."

"I argued against us using it to blast our way out of here."

"Blast, bore, it all means diggin' through the rocks."

"It's a question of magnitude—"

"The sooner you start, the sooner you'll finish," Hazel pointed out.

The atmosphere in the space seemed to drop by several degrees, though Mr. Spectacles didn't make a sound. Hazel felt smugly vindicated. He liked the feeling.

There was a sudden glow as Mr. Spectacles held a qui ball in the air, his jaw clenched, clearly intent on ignoring Hazel. Hazel felt a huge weight lift from him, just from seeing that small bit of light. The relief prompted him to let Mr. Spectacles get away with ignoring him for a few moments – after all, he'd just won the last argument, so he could afford to be generous – but his curiosity overpowered him.

"It doesn't seem like you're gettin' on with the job," he observed.

"No, it doesn't," the youkai agreed politely, his voice edged with frost.

Hazel decided to take a more direct approach. "What are you doing?"

Mr. Spectacles ignored him, staring at the dirt and rock intently. He made a satisfied sound and then frowned in concentration. His qui narrowed to a pencil-thin beam and Hazel again smelled the strange odor of burned ozone as rock began to give way before the light.

"I was merely estimating where there was sufficient stability for me to disrupt the earth," Mr. Spectacles suddenly said as if Hazel had only just spoken. "I'm angling it as sharply as possible to make sure that I don't inadvertently widen the angle as the beam goes higher and remove too much debris. I don't want to make the subsidence any more unstable. I'm afraid this might take quite a while," he added. "Perhaps you should endeavor to sleep for a bit."

Hazel narrowed his eyes at the condescending tone, but judged that he'd sound silly arguing with the advice. "Much obliged," he said instead, stretching out in the space, careful not to touch Mr. Spectacles, though, truth be told, a little cuddling for warmth didn't sound like a bad idea. But the small light from the beam of qui was comfort enough. The looming rocks seemed to retreat a bit and stop their whispering.

Eventually, he slept.

*****

 

A God-awful shaking and rumbling startled him from his sleep, but the choked-off cry was what cleared the cobwebs from his head.

The space felt smaller, as if the earth had closed its fist around them. The qui beam was nowhere to be seen, and all Hazel could discern in the deeper-than-pitch darkness was labored breathing.

"Mr. Spectacles?" he asked tentatively, shivering as the darkness and silence pressed in on him.

He heard a pause followed by an expelled breath. "I seem to have miscalculated." Mr. Spectacles' voice was thin and precise, as if he were controlling it with great difficulty. "There's been a collapse at this end, I'm afraid."

Hazel felt a thrill of pure terror shiver through him. If Mr. Spectacles died, he'd be alone. Alone in the dark, with the earth eager to swallow him… "Can't you use your chi for healin'?" he demanded. Mr. Spectacles didn't answer. "Well?"

"It's not so bad," Mr. Spectacles eventually said. "I think that I can continue to work."

Something in the quality of his response made Hazel pause. Why wouldn't Mr. Spectacles simply heal himself and then get back to work? Unless the injury was pretty bad… "It's an either-or choice, then," Hazel finally said slowly. Damn. He didn't want to respect the youkai, but maybe he'd be forced to.

"If we escape, there'll be time to heal," Mr. Spectacles replied softly. "It's our best chance."

The thin beam of chi appeared and began to slowly cut through the rock anew. In its light, Hazel could see beads of sweat gleam on Mr. Spectacles' face, which was drawn and gaunt. There was just enough glow for Hazel to see that the youkai was half-buried, the slab that had formed their ceiling cracked and broken on that side. Shadows hid the rest, which was fine as far as Hazel was concerned. He could smell fresh blood, which was answer enough.

No more games then, especially as there wasn't any sign of Gat. And really, Hazel finally allowed himself to concede, how could he expect Gat to find them? Must have been about half the mountain that came down with him and Mr. Spectacles.

He'd have to live with the fact that he was now doubly indebted to a youkai, once for healing his wounds and now for providing the only possible option for escape. If they were rescued, he wondered if Mr. Spectacles would call in the second debt for the red-haired demon's life or the boy's life, and sighed. Well, maybe it was all right to leave two youkai alive at the end, at least until one or both of them showed their true colors.

A peace offering of some kind was called for. The dirt was cold under his fingers, but he finally found the damp handkerchief. "Y'all must be pretty thirsty right about now."

This time Mr. Spectacles' fingers were like ice.

"Thank you."

"Just keep workin'," Hazel said. He shifted a bit closer to Mr. Spectacles to keep him warm while he worked. It was warmer for Hazel like that, anyway. Closing his eyes, he drifted back to sleep, the smell of burning chi almost soothing as Mr. Spectacles grimly continued to work.

*****

 

This time he woke to Mr. Spectacles' shivers. The air was noticeably thinner, as if the qui were eating it away just like it was eating away at the rocks.

"How long?" Hazel yawned, turning his head away politely.

"Don't worry, Goku. We'll be fine," Mr. Spectacles whispered. "Just a little more…"

Hazel blinked in surprise. "Mr. Spectacles?"

Mr. Spectacles started, looking at Hazel as if he didn't recognize him. Then an embarrassed expression crossed his face and he laughed. "Ah haha. I must have been dreaming," he said, his gaze sliding away from Hazel's.

"As long as you're workin'," Hazel said. "'Pears like you haven't reached fresh air yet."

Mr. Spectacles shook his head. "Just a bit further, I'm sure." He turned his attention back to the stream of qui, which was dimmer than it had been.

Hazel could feel his eyes drooping. He glimpsed Mr. Spectacles glancing at him and roused himself enough to frown. "What?"

"Nothing," Mr. Spectacles said quietly. "Perhaps you should sleep some more."

"All I've been doin' is sleepin', it seems," Hazel said, annoyed with himself. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that Mr. Spectacles might need to eat something if he was going to keep boring an airhole. He reached into his pocket and drew out his chocolate bar, soft from the heat of his body. "Want to split this?"

Hazel managed to get Mr. Spectacles to eat a bit of chocolate and a couple of pieces of dried fruit. They shared the handkerchief, which offered no more than a hint of water, but it still helped.

"The water seep is slowin' down," Hazel observed when he returned the handkerchief to its place. "It's barely a drip now."

"The ground is probably settling, or it's being absorbed into the earth somewhere above us," Mr. Spectacles said. He was still dead white and sweating, but he seemed lucid enough.

Even with the chocolate in him, Hazel felt drowsy. _The air,_ he suddenly realized. _It's getting pretty bad._ He found himself staring at the glow of Mr. Spectacle's chi, his thoughts drifting vaguely until all he was aware of was the dim golden light.

He closed his eyes.

*****

 

"Gojyo, please don't smoke in bed—"

Hazel woke with a start. No chi glow. "Mr. Spectacles," he whispered into the darkness.

"—not safe." The youkai's voice faded and his breathing evened out again. Hazel shook him, but he was unresponsive.

Mr. Spectacles wasn't going to make it. The realization curled in Hazel's stomach strangely. He'd spared Mr. Sanzo's three companions for the nonce because they belonged to Mr. Sanzo, but aside from that, he'd no more considered letting them continue living than he would any other vermin. Yet here, in the darkness and the stink, and finally accepting the growing probability that neither of them was likely to survive, Hazel was aware of a sense of loss.

If Mr. Spectacles died, Hazel would mourn him.

Not 'if.' When Mr. Spectacles died…

Hazel fingered his pendant absently. If he caught the youkai's soul in the pendant, at least he might be able to find some comfort in not being entirely alone when he faced his own death. Truth be told, he'd have gone stark raving mad already down here in the dark if Mr. Spectacles hadn't been with him. He wouldn't survive long after Mr. Spectacles died. Maybe, when the end came, he could muster the strength to let Mr. Spectacles' soul go.

But what if he died in his sleep, not waking in time to release the youkai's soul? Would Mr. Spectacles' soul remain trapped in the pendant forever? It seemed likely, yet Hazel couldn't bear to think of being alone in the darkness. He curled around Mr. Spectacles. Might as well take comfort where he could. If he offered it, well…

He roused with a start. Funny. He wouldn't begrudge Mr. Spectacles comfort. Not any more. He held the youkai tighter.

*****

 

Mr. Spectacles' breaths were shallow, his brow feverish. Hazel wished they had more water. He'd like to bathe Mr. Spectacles' forehead, try to cool him down. He felt for Mr. Spectacles' mouth and squeezed a few drops into it, then sucked on what was left in the damp rag to try to allay his own thirst before searching for the wet spot with his fingers and placing the cloth back in the hollow to soak up a few more precious drops.

If only he weren't so dizzy. Maybe then he could think of another way to get them out. He bent over his companion.

"Mr. Spectacles." There was no response. "Hakkai," Hazel whispered, barely breathing. This time there was a small catch in Mr. Spectacles' breathing, but Hazel wasn't sure if it was because he'd recognized his name or if he was simply slipping further into fevered sleep.

Hakkai. Hazel wondered if the name meant something, or if it was just a collection of syllables that sounded well together. Strange names they had over here, but then, this land was full of strangeness. Imagine, humans and youkai living together. Youkai were so powerful, they'd always end up killing…

A surprised exclamation escaped him. Mr. Spectacles was youkai. He hardly seemed like it, though. Where was all of a youkai's normal power? Had he wasted it all on protecting them from the rocks, then healing Hazel and the failed attempt to get them more air?

Or was the power there, just bound? Hazel'd been pretty sure from the beginning that Mr. Spectacles' ear jewelery was a set of power limiters. Would Mr. Spectacles survive longer if he were in demon form?

Of course, without the ear cuffs he might go feral like all of the other youkai Hazel had met. But he was obviously on his last legs. Maybe being youkai would buy Mr. Spectacles a little time, keep Hazel from having to wait for rescue alone while lying next to a dead body. He was too weak to hurt Hazel, after all. And if Mr. Spectacles went mad, Hazel could always kill him and put his soul into the pendant for safe-keeping.

He shifted closer to Mr. Spectacles, hand outreached. The demon's face was turned towards him, which was good, since he wouldn't have to risk waking him by moving his head. Hazel slid his hand across clammy skin and roughened hair until his fingers reached cold, smooth metal. He felt along Mr. Spectacles' ear until he found all three cuffs, then pulled them off all at once.

The bright light of Mr. Spectacles' transformation startled Hazel; he hadn't known that would happen. Eyes dazzled, he didn't realize that Mr. Spectacles was awake, much less that he was going to move, before he was pinned beneath the youkai's weight.

The light faded, and they were in darkness once again. Hazel felt the sharp bite of claws in his wrists where Mr. Spectacles held him.

"I smell blood," Mr. Spectacles breathed.

"Mr. Spectacles!"

"You know, I hate that name." Mr. Spectacles' voice sounded wilder, menace woven into the deep tones. "Hazel-san, you smell… delicious."

Hazel swallowed down his sudden fear. "Maybe it's just that we haven't eaten in a bit," he said.

"Perhaps I can rectify that," Mr. Spectacles purred.

"You're actin' mighty spry for someone half-trapped under a mountain," Hazel said, his mouth dry.

"Ah. Yes." He shifted his body, and Hazel felt a small cascade of stones and dirt shift and pour into their small space. "I suppose that I should thank you." Mr. Spectacles laughed, an eerie gaiety adding a lilt to his words. "I'm stronger when I transform. It appears my legs were pinned, not broken. And now I'm free. Is that what you hoped to accomplish when you took off my ear cuffs?"

"I wanted you to keep workin'." Hazel's anger flared, dispelling his fear. "Though you could be a mite more polite about it."

"Hazel-san, I have a question to pose to you." Mr. Spectacles smoothly straddled Hazel in the dark. "If my transformation into my youkai form makes me stronger," he whispered into Hazel's ear, suddenly near, "why didn't I transform earlier?"

"Not bein' able to read minds, I'm sure I don't know," Hazel retorted.

"Because I didn't want to die a youkai," Mr. Spectacles said softly. _"You took that from me."_

Hazel went cold with the sudden realization that Mr. Spectacles meant to kill him. He reached inside for the power of the pendant.

"I'd like to tear out your throat for that," Mr. Spectacles said conversationally. "But unfortunately, I can't."

As if he trusted the youkai's word. "And why's that?" Hazel pulled the power close. Another second, maybe two…

"In Tougenkyou, when one man saves another man's life, he's bound to protect that life in future." Fury licked through the demon's voice. "Even if that other man takes everything from him."

"I'm not the villain here!"

"Because you're human," Mr. Spectacles said, the awful false gaiety back. "Which means that I, alas, must be the villain. Because I'm youkai."

Hazel unleashed his power.

The small space erupted as dirt and small stones twisted through the air, caught in the pendant's maelstrom. Hazel's wrists were suddenly free and he put all of his strength into the blow he directed at the youkai. He caught Mr. Spectacles somewhere on the face, hard enough that he heard the other man's head hit the rock slab above.

Mr. Spectacles laughed.

Hazel called more power. The pendant flared, brightly, Mr. Spectacles glowing in its grip, and Hazel knew the youkai's soul was his. He felt a sharp regret for Mr. Spectacles, but it was beyond them both now. All Hazel had to do was to calm the pendant's hunger and pull its power back inside…

Mr. Spectacles laughed again.

Hazel's breath caught. The maelstrom wasn't ending. He hadn't captured the youkai.

The glow enveloping Mr. Spectacles turned green, with violent flames of orange darting through it. Mr. Spectacles' chi. Huge, too huge, the pendant couldn't hold it even if it were entirely empty. This, then – this huge power - was probably why Mr. Sanzo kept Mr. Spectacles by his side. Unbound, the youkai's power was enormous.

Mr. Spectacles continued to laugh as the power of the pendant faded. Hazel struggled, but within seconds, he was panting hard in an effort to get enough of the fetid air to calm his pounding heart, once again pinned underneath the youkai's weight.

"It seems I was actin' foolish," Hazel said bitterly. "I though helpin' you get stronger might get us both out o' here in one piece."

"Ah haha! Then we've both been fools," Mr. Spectacles replied, equally bitter. "I thought helping you might keep me from becoming a youkai."

"I was tryin' to help!"

_"So was I!"_

"You hide behind a holy man and power limiters!" Hazel snapped. "Pretendin' to be something you aren't. All three of you! I warned Mr. Sanzo that you'd turn on him." He gulped air; there wasn't enough. He was dizzy and giddy enough to suddenly want to laugh himself. Which would kill him first, the youkai or suffocation? Mr. Spectacles was going to have to act fast if he wanted to take Hazel's life.

Mr. Spectacles was silent for a moment. "I doubt you'd understand," he finally said. "I have my reasons, and Gojyo and Goku have theirs."

"You think I believe that? Prove it!"

"How?"

"Get me out of here alive!"

"Then help me stay human!"

Hazel ignored the twitch of his conscience. He'd been naively altruistic earlier. Now he could see what a fool he'd been to think that he could save the demon. "God made you what you are, not me."

"Then I'll make you help me."

Hazel felt a tug on his robes and heard the sound of ripping cloth. "What- what are you doin'?" Hazel could feel his robes being pulled away. He struggled, but the youkai easily held him down with one hand while stripping him with his other. Another tug, and Hazel felt cold, damp air envelop his body. "Stop!"

"Make me feel human again, Hazel-san. You owe it to me."

"What's human about eatin' someone?"

"Eating?" Mr. Spectacles started laughing again, but stopped. "I'm so hungry," he whispered, his voice breathless. "And you smell-- I can't do it. I shouldn't do it. Hazel-san—"

"You're vermin!" Hazel whispered. Dear God, he was so dizzy…

"Hazel-san. Earlier you said I was an attractive man. Please. Help me stay human."

Suddenly a mouth was on his. For a horrible moment, Hazel thought that Mr. Spectacles had miscalculated, intending to tear out his throat, but tearing at his face instead. Then he felt a hard length against his stomach, and felt the movement of Mr. Spectacles' tongue against his lips and realized that no, the youkai hadn't miscalculated at all.

Hazel twisted his face away. "How will raping me keep you human?" he panted.

"Are you saying humans never commit rape?"

"Don't twist my words!"

"I couldn't twist your words any further than your own mind already has," Mr. Spectacles said, resting his forehead on Hazel's chest for a brief moment. "In fact, Hazel-san, I think that you and I are very much alike in that."

"You can't break me," Hazel said, his jaw clenched.

"I don't intend to." Mr. Spectacles scraped sharp teeth across Hazel's throat. "I intend to give you pleasure."

"Pleasure?" Hazel couldn't believe his ears. "Pleasure? Like this?"

"The scent of blood is driving me mad," Mr. Spectacles whispered. "Let me do this. Before I give in to the hunger." He kissed Hazel again, rocking his hips against Hazel's.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Hazel couldn't think any more; he felt himself responding, his cock filling with blood and rising. He closed his eyes, moaning into Mr. Spectacles mouth like some whore. Oh God. Give in and allow himself to be carnally violated? Or resist and be eaten? Mr. Spectacles' hand slid between them and curled around his length, and Hazel cried out.

"You're not givin' me a choice!"

"I didn't get a choice when you took off my limiters," Mr. Spectacles whispered into Hazel's ear just before he dipped his pointed tongue inside. "Besides," he added, nuzzling Hazel's neck, "you were the one who suggested a romp in the hay would make the time pass more quickly."

"Passing time," Hazel groaned. Passing time just meant that death was coming sooner. If the demon was offering him a chance to escape for at least a little while… Hazel moaned again and wrapped himself around Mr. Spectacles as best he could, pressing up into the youkai's hard body and eager hand. Mr. Spectacles hadn't given him a fair choice. If they did this, Hazel wasn't responsible.

Oh dear God, it felt so good.

He fell into the pleasure, pulling at Mr. Spectacles' clothing until he reached hot, bare skin. Something seemed to move across the surface of it, brushing softly across his body in a thousand places, setting off bursts of sensation that built in Hazel. He cried out as his climax took him, spilling into Mr. Spectacles' hand.

He felt Mr. Spectacles sliding his hand underneath, turning him over until Hazel's stomach was pressed against the hard earthen floor. Mr. Spectacles pressed two semen-covered fingers into Hazel's entrance and pulled them out before something larger nestled against his arsehole and then slid inside, filling him. He cried out and lunged forward, but Mr. Spectacles moved with him, and then Hazel was pressed against the wall of dirt and rocks and there was no place to go. _Too much, too quick_, but he couldn't form the words, so he swallowed them down and tried to endure.

Mr. Spectacles pulled out a bit and used saliva to ease the way a bit more before he pushed in deeper. Hazel groaned, still feeling more torment than pleasure, but it was better. Mr. Spectacles set a steady rocking motion, mouthing Hazel's neck and caressing his sides, and the pain faded to be replaced with a deep hunger than Hazel had never felt before. He couldn't get enough air, couldn't focus his mind, could only moan while the most incredible feelings built inside his arse and caused his prick to fill and harden once more. Mr. Spectacles shifted, pulling Hazel with him until they were on their sides and then Mr. Spectacles took Hazel into his hand once again, squeezing and pumping Hazel's cock until he suddenly bit hard into the nape of Hazel's neck. Hazel could feel warmth spread inside his arse as Mr. Spectacles came, pressed hard against him. A moment later Hazel came a second time, his heart pounding in his ears as he spilled into Mr. Spectacles' hand.

Hazel's eyes drifted shut.

"Oh, God," he heard Mr. Spectacles say, then felt warmth flow through him, gradually taking away the aches and tears. "Hazel-san. I didn't—"

"Don't say a word," Hazel murmured into the darkness. "Nothin' happened. Nothin'. Got that?"

Long claws clicked against stone. "I - I understand."

Hazel pulled away.

*****

 

Hazel drifted on the edge of consciousness, fighting for breath. Chi flowed and elongated; he had the foggy notion that Mr. Spectacles had replaced the ear cuffs and returned to his task of boring them an air hole, but really, he couldn't be sure.

He'd never even got a look at Mr. Spectacles' true form. But that didn't matter. He'd know Mr. Spectacles anywhere, under any conditions. He'd recognize him, no matter what Mr. Spectacles looked like, just from the sheer Hell-light of his power, the scent and feel of his body. And one day they'd meet again, and that time Hazel wouldn't lose.

Holding tight to that thought, Hazel passed out.

*****

 

Someone was shaking him.

Hazel opened his eyes to find Mr. Spectacles staring down at him, a ball of chi held high. He took a deep breath.

Fresh air.

"You did it," Hazel whispered, staring into Mr. Spectacles' eyes.

"I'm going to send up a flare," Mr. Spectacles said. A piece of chi shot from the ball and disappeared into the hole the youkai had bored.

Faintly, they heard shouts from above. "Hakkai!" cried someone, followed by Gat's deeper, "Hazel!"

"We're down here!" Mr. Spectacles shouted, eyes still locked with Hazel's. "Both of us!"

"We're coming!" It was the boy's voice, clear and shrill with what sounded like relief.

They were being rescued. "It doesn't seem real," Hazel said.

Mr. Spectacles finally looked away, and Hazel's memories flooded back.

Oh dear God. "All debts are paid in full," he said grimly. He gathered the remnants of his clothing around him.

"Yes," Mr. Spectacles replied, pale in the glow of the chi. The glow disappeared, and Hazel heard movements that suggested that the youkai was making an attempt to dress, too.

After pulling on the ragged remains of their clothing, they waited silently, listening to the sounds of shovels biting into hard earth and occasionally turning their faces away when dislodged dirt dribbled down on them. Neither spoke a word, even when Gat finally lifted the slab and sunlight poured in, burning Hazel's eyes with a light that flamed like creation itself.

He blocked it with his hand, remembering the glow of the youkai's chi in the darkness when he'd awoken the first time, after the fall. The sun's brightness was warm and sustaining, Mr. Spectacles' chi a ghost-lit candle in comparison. He heard Mr. Spectacles' sudden intake of breath, and wondered if the youkai felt any remorse for his actions.

Hazel reckoned that he'd been proved that he was right all along. Youkai were evil at heart. Mr. Sanzo was either too kind-hearted or too naïve to see the danger he was in, traveling with them the way he was.

The other two demons pulled Mr. Spectacles from the rubble, their laughter and banter grating on Hazel's nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard, while Mr. Sanzo just stood back and watched with his arms crossed.

He obviously trusted them, all his comments to the contrary aside. Mr. Sanzo, for all his holy ways, was a fool. Hazel wouldn't make the same mistake. Not a second time.

He felt gentle hands pull him from the dirt. "Hazel," Gat said, sounding relieved.

"I'm fine," Hazel said. "No need to worry." He smiled and Gat nodded his head as he helped him out of the hole. Hazel glanced inside and paused, blinking in surprise.

It was so small. Now that he could see it plainly, laid open and bare, it barely looked like enough space to have held two children, much less two men. Had he really lain in there for God knew how long, next to a youkai as dangerous as Mr. Spectacles? How had so many large things happened in such a small place? He touched his pendant.

The little hollow had almost been his tomb. The thought of sleeping there for all eternity curled next to a demon made Hazel shiver.

His resolved hardened. Even youkai disguised as humans, even youkai as well-spoken and intelligent as Mr. Spectacles, were twisted and corrupt inside.

Still, the beast had only given into his base nature the one time, and only because Hazel had made the decision that living was better than dying. Perhaps all debts weren't paid. Perhaps, if he was close enough to Mr. Spectacles when the youkai was killed, or if he ended up killing Mr. Spectacles himself one day, perhaps he'd consider giving him the chance for redemption as a human.

Yes. That would be a fitting payment for Mr. Spectacles' actions. He smiled to himself. He never forgot his debts, and he owed Mr. Spectacles a chance at redemption, no matter what the youkai felt about Hazel's miraculous power to resurrect the dead. God had chosen him, after all.

Hazel smiled again. "No need to worry at all."

_fin_


End file.
